20 Years From Now I’ll Make it, Somehow
I decided to leave this piece in the waiting room at Sheffield Train Station; now there’s only the fast train stoppage point of Meadowhall shopping centre on the Hallam line which hasn’t received one of my works so far (I think the likes of me, would be monitored by the cameras as being ‘suspicious’ as soon as I set floor towards this complex – not that this is a particularity suspicious thing I’m doing, but we do live in an insane and paranoid world).
I really couldn’t think of anywhere where I’d have the time to hang this drawing up, but as soon as I started covering it up in newspaper (to avoid the usual comments I get on public transport when carrying a work around) I quite liked the idea of it being wrapped up. After all, they are gifts, sort of, as I know that I’m not going to get them back.
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
The freight train
There’s something haunting about it as it clunks through the empty station, lit up orange by lighting late at night
What compels me to watch its every move?
What is it about the carriages which make them seem so brotherly to the Grey high rise blocks that loom heavy like giant warriors turned to stone in a calamitous projects we refer to as our home towns?
What is it they contain?
“Goods. Produce. Raw Materials” I know this already, but this answer seems too simplistic, too practical, too much like a yawn
They, like their ghostly brothers, the high rise blocks, appears as symbols of the alienation caused by The Machine
All that “produce” and “raw material” is heading for a million lonely mouths
Their lonely bodies will occupy the lonely cells that make up the high rises
Their loneliness works wonders for The Machine, and it keeps working on other ways to keep everyone just like the separate boxes following the driver carriage like sheep up a pitch-black rail-line: silent to all around us; never uttering a word; stumbling into an eternal night.
All I can do is too stare at these objects that seem to be embodiments of everything else I see.